Closed Educational Center

France

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Getting out of the deadlock

Non-obedient curls and cheeky dimples, Ramzah is having a smoke along the canal of the Marne at Rhin. He is fifteen years old. He dropped nine months ago at the Closed Educational Center (CEF) of Saverne in Alsace. Ramzah considers the volutes of smoke that zigzag in the frozen air of January and begins to recount his confiscated childhood. As a repeat offender, – “multireiterant” would rectify the Judicial Protection of Youth (PJJ) which is the umbrella of the fifty-one CEF in activity – he wants to empty a bundle weighted by years of drifting. His CEF placement by a juvenile judge is the ultimate alternative to prison. Another misdemeanor and he will receive a prison number. “Like the rags that gave birth to me”, he reacts, his fists clenched in the pockets of his parka. My mother is incarcerated because of heroine. So addicted that I was taken away from her when I had four days. My father fell for acts of barbarism and drug trafficking. So, I Ramzah here present, I “scrape” the social services, except that I’d rather say “social abuse”. Not dissatisfied with his formula indicative of a good Q.I, Ramzah argues:” I have experienced twenty-four foster families: this way of lugging the kids is not human. When you figure out that stuff so young, that you do not count for anything, well, nothing counts anymore and you disjunct: it’s inevitable! “After an educator has badged to open the doors of the CEF whose rooms are all locked, Ramzah confides that “the center is a school of life”. A confessed murmured story not to look like a “miskine” (poor guy, ed) in the sight of the ten other teenagers currently hosted. Thirteen to sixteen years old, shipwrecked from school and elsewhere, they are there on the advice of a magistrate on judicial review, a suspended sentence with probation or, for those who have experienced detention, a sentence adjustment. They have robbed, burgled, vandalized, raped. Since no educational measures have been able to channel them, they live under constraint for a six-months renewable period but “all of them remain children” punctuates Daniel Muller, director of this private CEF, approved by the Ministry of Justice since 2005. From his past as a street educator, the “boss” has kept his banter and strong opinions. “These kids, you have to take them as they are: if you do not get into their guts, there is no point considering another path. It is imperative to overcome the aversion that they sometimes inspire and to remember that they are first and foremost endangered children.” The slayers of the “culture of the excuse”, those who claim that explaining deviant behavior amounts to justifying it, should not venture to tickle this colossus at ease, they would take for their rank: “delinquency is not a gene. Refusing to think about the causes is criminal.” In his office cluttered with culinary reviews, this stubborn fellow readily digresses and talks about gastronomy but the first-rate meal is reserved for his tenants. “We are building a lot of partnerships with the outside world because our kids know nothing about ordinary life,” he says. Faithful to the spirit of the 1945 ordinance that France “must not neglect any of its children” and that Christiane Taubira intended to modernize before the summer, Daniel Muller does not position himself as an eager defender of the CEF. “Many have been decried rightly, some have been closed for violation of children’s human rights,” he goes on. Poorly administered, these institutions can quickly switch to abusive coercion”. Far, far away from the subtle score orchestrated in Saverne. “We navigate between punishment and mothering,” specifies Natacha, the psychologist of the structure. But for me, the goal is to help these teens grow. Despite appearances, they are big babies craving for attention”. Emotional gaps that come to life in the evening, when the “little man” playtime is over. Audrey, an educator that has been in office for eight years, evokes those “letting go” moments during which the “cadors” confined in their rooms “ask for a story like small children”. She also knows that the next day, the same ones may threaten her. Curled up on the sofa in the TV space, Guillaume, 15, repeats: “She will not come this weekend, she never does”. This hired muscle just called his mother. Listened to by an adult as the regulation requires, the conversation cut short. “Obviously alcoholic, his mom declined the invitation to go to the CEF although we informed her we would take care of everything financially,” an educator says. During the morning debriefing, Guillaume occupies the minds. Scorched by the call of the day before, “he defied our authority. With him, we are on the edge of the razor: he has a big ascendancy over the others and seeks to impose his law” his referent warns. Maintaining group equilibrium is the obsession of the supervisors. A departure, an arrival and the whole community totters. These days, the integration of fifteen-year-old Mounir is a challenge. Afflicted with behavioral problems, displaying a CM1 level when the others are Grade 5 class, he plays with the nerves of the team. In art workshop, this 120-kilo eructuous chicken promises the educator to “beat her up” before gleefully jubilating “you’re all red, you’re afraid?”. In the wake, he made the punch with Guillaume. Both are consigned “in their room” right away. “The CEF requires constant vigilance,” says Saïda Rousseau, deputy director. Unlike the judicial institution that allows a long time between committing a crime and pronouncing a sentence, we provide immediate answers to the shortcomings: without this reactivity, young people believe in their impunity, when deep down they are calling for limits”. This evidenced by Jimmy, 16 years old: “Foster placements, I’ve known many and I always ran away, he smiles. Here I am at the end of my six months. I ran away of course but they got me: it was the first time in my life that I was held back somewhere, the first time I was really hooked: it warmed my heart. On the verge of getting out, Jimmy the Lillois dreads the “return to the quarter”, the “risk of being influenced by the friends” whore are mechanics graduates with a minor in car thefts. Acquaintances that have earned him the right to be sued by a judge since the age of eleven. “If I can not find an apprenticeship contract …” he anticipates. Jimmy panics. Then he gets carried away for a cigarette story that he would have been deprived of and deliberately smashed his wrist against the door of the refectory. The episode does not straighten Kevin, fourteen years of galley behind him. Deprived of a mother ever since, he clanks along between street and shelters, rolls with the punches, sometimes fighting back. “Boxing life” boasts that featherweight that possesses nothing, apart from the rap texts he writes to the kilometer. And dedicates to those who have ditched him, that is to say almost everyone: “I’m not old enough” he addresses to Justice, “I wish you were behind me” to his addicted mother, “It’s been stirring in me” to whoever will listen. The desperate songs of a lost gypsy, melody of the common misfortune of the 1,500 offenders sent every year to the CEF. Their future? “worrying,” admits Daniel Muller. There is no hand-over between us and the Judicial Protection of the Youth supposed to ensure the continuation”. Since the emergence of the CEF in 2002, the Chancellery has not produced any study on the fate of these young people. “We count for nothing,” repeats Ramzah, “but that’s okay. The CEF cleaned up my head: before I raved to endure reality, today I keep my eyes open. I want to integrate a Grade 3 class and follow dog-handler training. It took me nine months to get that: the shrink would certainly say that it is the duration of a pregnancy. So, I was born!”